


Kaiju Rescue Service

by Janex991412



Series: You can't spell "Love" without "Godzilla" [1]
Category: Godzilla (1998), Godzilla - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Writing, Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Kaiju Fights, Kaiju Things, Zilla is Zilla Jr from the animated series, some gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 19:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17229740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janex991412/pseuds/Janex991412
Summary: Zilla is out enjoying his day when he comes across a sinking island; not the oddest thing he's ever seen, all things considered, but definitely in the top 5.





	Kaiju Rescue Service

**Author's Note:**

> So this is probably the longest story I've ever written; it's probably bad still. I might turn it into a series, entirely seperate from that other Godzilla thing I have going, I have some ideas for where I want it to go.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it though, let me know if you do. And if you thought something didn't make sense, let me know too.

To say Zilla loved swimming would be a gross understatement. The iguana spent most of his days in the water, performing various barrel rolls, spins, sometimes chasing his own tail or a stray school of fish. He loved the feeling of water, cool and refreshing, washing over his scales as he cut through it with unparalleled grace and fluidity for someone his size. 

While the land had been claimed by humans and other kaiju who were less inclined to submerge themselves in the dark depths of Earth's oceans, the waters, for the most part, were Zilla's domain. He was a benevolent ruler, however, sticking to himself mostly and rarely getting in the way of others, be it human or kaiju. Of course, there had been the occasional incident with a boat sinking nearby while he was out frolicking in the watery abyss. Zilla always rushed to help the drowning sailors, be it by pulling off tied down dinghies from an already submerged ship and dragging them to the surface, or by plucking the screaming and madly flailing humans from the grasp of the waves and depositing them on something that floated. He disappeared as quickly as he had appeared, leaving the shell-shocked seamen to wonder if what had happened was real or not.

Zilla's logic was a simple one: if they're already in my way, I might as well help out, right? 

It was a kind of life philosophy he had picked up from his late, surrogate father. Zilla considered it a way to honor his legacy, something Nick would've wanted him to do had he still been there for him. He dislodged the unpleasant thoughts with a quick shake of his head; thinking about it still hurt, a lot, even with how rarely his mind went to those darker places. Or perhaps it was the lack of constant remembrance that made the rare lapses of bad memories so painful.

Despite that, he wouldn't call himself a "human lover" as the more snappy kaiju would undoubtedly dub him. If, for one reason or another, a submarine or another ship was sent after him, he would have little remorse in destroying it; getting shot at was rather annoying. It wasn't like he went out of his way to attack human cities or random ships just for fun; he considered such acts pointless and rather dumb, not to mention a complete waste of time and energy. Aggression led to escalation, which in turn would lead to more ships being sent after him.

Despite the disinterest in sticking his nose in other people's business, he was not one to ever run from a fight. While he had never gotten a proper invitation to one of those "everyone gangs up on King Ghidorah and kicks his interplanetary ass" parties that seemed to be in vogue with the kaiju crowd, he did his fair share of heavy lifting in all those biannual alien invasions. And while the extraterrestrial invaders had rarely gone into the sea, he still found their presence on the planet at large unwelcome, even going as far as to go on land to combat them. Earth was his home, of course he'd want to defend it.

Such skirmishes had often landed Zilla on the same side as the, mostly, self-proclaimed Earth Defenders, a group of kaiju banded together under the leadership of one Godzilla, otherwise known as King of the Monsters. Everyone knew Godzilla. Some viewed him as an invaluable ally in the ongoing war against the kaiju hell-bent on destruction, while most saw him as one and were terrified of both him and of what he could do. Zilla didn't quite fit into either of those camps.

He had nothing against the atomic-breathing, radiation-powered Godzillasaurus; truth be told, they had never really spoken to each other. There had always been a sort of cold aura about Godzilla that discouraged any and all interaction with the King of the Monsters. It showed very clearly that he wasn't keen on talking in general and the perpetually angry, snarling expression he wore didn't help matters either. Short, tired grunts and brief, sideway glances after a battle right before they went their separate ways didn't qualify as conversation to Zilla, and most certainly weren't enough to judge someone on. Godzilla had never come off as a talkative monster during their encounters, so Zilla had never attempted to talk to him; he understood quite well the value of privacy. His own self-imposed 'isolation' was a clear sign of that. They were both loners, and that was just a fact of life.

He enjoyed travelling the world by himself, not because he was somehow handicapped in the field of social interaction, but simply because it was easier that way. Almost none could keep up with him in the water and the few that could in the air failed to see the sense of such seemingly pointless travels. As such, most of his days passed with him on his own.

Today was, by all standards, a very usual day for the tuna-eater. He woke up at first light in a small underwater grotto he had dug out for himself the other day, in the side of some remote island, and let out a mighty yawn. The cavern was fairly small by kaiju standards, just large enough to fit one mutated iguana curled into a tight ball for a night's rest. 

Without much preamble he dived headfirst right back into the clear and delightfully cool waters of the ocean, and sighed, pleased, letting out a stream of bubbles from his nostrils in the process.

Zilla took a moment to stretch his limbs and back out, groaning happily as his bones and joints popped in the most satisfying of ways. He hadn't taken comfort into account while constructing his shelter the other day. For a moment he simply floated with his dark grey belly pointed toward the surface, allowing the currents to carry his body as he closed his eyes and relaxed. Rays of sunlight pierced through the water surface and shimmered against his scales, flickering and glistening on their sleek edges to the point it almost seemed like he was glowing.

And then the beautifully serene moment was ruined when his stomach rumbled obnoxiously to loudly announce its desire for food. One of his eyes slipped open lazily, as if to confirm that the sound, indeed, originated from his body, and then rolled over with a slight grumble. With a sudden burst of speed, he effortlessly cut through the calm waters like a massive, scaly rocket. His arms were pressed tightly against his sides and his legs held out straight for maximum velocity, while his tail served for course correction. 

A large school of fish caught his eye and he turned towards it with a quick flick of his powerful tail. The fish scattered in an effort to get away, but he caught up to them with no effort and in three quick passes the entire school was gone and he had a belly nicely full of tuna, his absolute favorite. 

As a primarily marine creature, mostly by choice and the fact that his mutation had grunted him the ever useful ability of breathing underwater, his diet consisted almost exclusively of fish and other sea life in its broad meaning. He usually ate as he went, without going out of his way to hunt; if he saw an appetizingly large cloud of fish floating about obliviously or a particularly tasty looking shark while passing by, he wouldn't hesitate to take a bite. Of course, such a carefree attitude towards his unestablished hunting grounds had sometimes led to some one-sided disputes with some unlucky fisherman who found their nets torn and their catch missing. 

'This is the life', he thought to himself blissfully with a low rumble from the deepest confines of his chest, that could pass for a purr. Having all the time in the world and nowhere to be, he kept moving further southeast in no hurry, doing lazy spins and occasionally chasing a lone dolphin or other large fish, more out of playfulness than actual desire to hunt.

After months upon months of crossing the world's waters this way and that, he had become quite the expert in underwater navigation, able to tell his general position by the shape of the seafloor, the currents or the fauna surrounding him. It was something he prided himself in greatly and likely for good reason, not many others were as intimately familiar with the water kingdom and all its inhabitants, fissures and concealed pathways.  
Losing track of time was easy. The sunlight, although dimmed by the water's surface, still provided an adequate visual reminder of the time of day and the Sun's position in the sky. Zilla just often ignored such clues entirely, only realizing the day was ending when said rays had disappeared. His muscles, conditioned to full days of nothing but swimming at various levels of intensity, rarely hurt so he couldn't even rely on his own body to communicate to him how much time had passed. 

Caught up in reminiscing, he drifted onward, humming a soft tune to himself. The added effect of water vibrating against his body, forced into motion by the low, guttural sound rumbling out of his lungs and chest, made it all the more pleasant. And then something else rumbled, far off in the distance and with much greater force, sending out a shockwave that caused waves both on the surface of the ocean and beneath it. 

Zilla paused, more out of confusion than anything, and floated in place for a moment, staring intently in the direction the unexpected wave had come from. It certainly wasn't caused by a sinking ship or exploding torpedoes, this was something much larger. Intrigued, and a little wary, he sprung forward with speed even greater than usual.

The closer he got to supposed epicenter, the more he realized something was wrong. Fish were fleeing from the direction he swimming towards, narrowly avoiding his scaly bulk in a blind panic. A pod of whales passed by to his right, calling out to each other in fear. Something was definitely wrong. Mentally, he prepared himself for a fight.

It could be anything, from that lobster kaiju (whose name he didn't remember) deciding to hunt itself a snack, through Spacegodzilla choosing to take a dip in the ocean to an alien mothership crash landing. Except none of those would really explain why the vibrations were continuing, or why they were getting stronger the further Zilla went. 

They grew in power on and on, until the water itself seemed to be rippling around Zilla, a queasy feeling rising in the pit of his stomach at the unfamiliar sensation. Rough seas and tidal waves were nothing new to him, he had swam in typhoons and tsunamis before without getting as much as a scratch on him, but this was so beyond anything he had ever experienced that his own body wasn't sure how to react.

Soon, water began to grow warm, as if he were swimming into a fire. Bodies of dead aquatic creatures dotted the underwater landscape all around him, their lifeless corpses turned belly up, drifting limply in the watery void and bouncing off his scaly hide as he pressed on further. Before him an enormous wall of bubbles and dark blocks with jagged edges came into view and stretched out as far as his eyes could see. His eyes narrowed, accustomed to spotting tiny fish in the dark depths, to peer through the cloud of bubbles.

Trees, rocks, beaches, entire mountain ranges were being pulled beneath the roaring waves at an alarmingly fast rate. A sinking island. 

The realization grinded Zilla to a complete halt and for a moment he floated in place, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the disaster happening before him. He was, quite literally, frozen in place. His mind seemed to short-circuit for a brief moment, unable to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. The extent of the catastrophe was beyond anything he had ever seen; how could an entire island just up and sink like this?

'Wait, hold on,' he thought to himself, feeling the initial shock slowly wearing off, a pang of dread travelling down his spine and making his tail thrash about anxiously. 

This wasn't just a regular island. The sight had shocked him to the point where he forgot where he had been going in the first place, but now with his mind clearer he could think logically once again. He had been swimming southeast for quite some time now, it was not out of the question that he had crossed into Japan's territorial waters by now. 

With the feeling of dread steadily growing in his chest, forcing the air right out of his lungs, he shot straight up and breached the surface, swinging his great head around to get a good look. The situation above water was just as bad as the one beneath. Massive waves crashed against his snout and chest, forcing gallons of salty water down his nostrils. Mountains crumbled to dust, large chunks of rock hurtled down from great heights and plummeted into the rough sea, causing miniature tsunamis. The island itself seemed to had cracked in half, like the Titanic after its unpleasant encounter with an icecap, both its halves sinking into the stormy waves, a not-so-small maelstrom raging between them. 

Zilla recognized these mountains, these valleys and hills now being consumed by the hungry sea with a massive pillar of raven black smoke billowing above it like a cloud. While he had never been on the island proper, he had watched it from afar many a time, enough to recognize it at first glance. 

Monster Island. Home to Godzilla and countless other kaiju. And now it was falling apart like a human warship met with too much pressure from large claws or teeth. A natural disaster this, most certainly, was not.

A cataclysm of this magnitude, at such a, frankly, unparalleled scale could easily threaten a kaiju's life. Despite the common belief that they were impossible to get rid of, kaiju were still very much killable or at least capable of suffering serious injuries, just not be strictly speaking "conventional methods". A complete collapse of an entire island via an unknown catalyst didn't qualify as a conventional method by a long shot. It didn't take a genius that realize that even a kaiju could be threatened by something of this caliber. 

Zilla's eyes widened when the realization hit him. Kaiju lived here, maybe some of them hadn't made it off in time. He dived back down into the depths with a splash, his powerful body rocketing through the water at double his usual speed, his powerful tail cutting through the foamed water like knife through butter. 

Scalding bubbles stung against his scales, like angry bees stabbing into his skin; unpleasant, but not deadly. He gritted his teeth, made sure to keep them out of his eyes, and pushed on.

He navigated through the narrow pathways the slowly sinking rocks were creating with speed and confidence many wouldn't have in a situation like this. Occasionally his back spikes would scrape over a low hanging arc of a tilting land mass, rising a cloud of pebbles and dirt all around him. Being unable to smell anything underwater, he was forced to rely solely on his vision and, however good it was, seeing anything in this chaos was nigh impossible. 

The heat was getting unbearable, each breath sent gallons of boiling hot water that burned through his nostrils and sinuses. His lungs felt like they were being slowly roasted. A jet of steam-like substance exploded out of an unidentifiable cluster of rocks on his right and grazed his shin, leaving behind a furiously red mark. He hissed and growled, feeling the stinging pain of burnt flesh, and nearly rammed headfirst into another giant slab of rock, managing to stop himself against it with his forehands just in time.

'This is a death trap,' he thought grimly to himself, swinging his head from left to right in a desperate effort to spot anything through the clouds of steam, bubbles and mud. Everything was rumbling and falling apart and if he stayed here any longer, he would forever become a part of this underwater graveyard. 

An angry growl tore its way out of his tormented lungs and his sickle-like claws curled into the rocky surface, cracking it with ease. He hated this feeling of complete helplessness overpowering him. For all intents and purposes he was a god, a being bestowed with unfathomable powers and abilities, capable of withstanding adversities no regular mortal could. But, truly, what even a god could do against the wrath of nature itself. Zilla wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling per se, he just chose not to remember the last time he had felt. 

Failure hung upon him like a heavy burden, weighing him down and threatening to drag all the way down to the bottom as he floated in place, clutching onto the side of what must have been a cliff side once; tall, majestic, unconquerable. Now reduced to ruin and sinking, ever so slowly. How ironic, he supposed.

Forced to accept the loss, he was just about ready to propel himself backwards and swim away when he heard it. It was muffled, barely audible through the thick layer of rock, water and the all-overpowering noise of rocks grinding against rocks, but Zilla was sure he hadn't dream it up. He pressed his whole body against the rock, straining his ears to catch another sound and sure enough, it came. A roar, filled with rage and boundless fury, coming from beyond the natural wall. A very familiar sounding roar...

Godzilla.

Without a second's hesitation Zilla hurled himself against the rocks and started burrowing through them with stalwart determination. Rock and stone crumbled beneath his furious swipes, yielding to the brunt of his claws and their sharpness. The wall was sturdy which he was rather thankful for, as it didn't just collapse on top of him when he forced his way into the newly created tunnel and kept going, not pausing for even a second. His burning lungs and nose had been forgotten, cast aside and replaced by a matter much more pressing and important: Godzilla was on the other side of this rock, or perhaps in it, and by all accounts it sounded like he was trapped.

Either the wall wasn't as thick as Zilla had expected or the adrenaline made him dig even faster than unusual, as the next second the last of the rock gave way under the force of his advance and he tumbled headfirst into a cave system, already entirely submerged in water; water must have seeped in from another entry point, one the iguana couldn't spot, and flooded the place. 

What he did spot, however, was the one making all that ruckus. Godzilla lied buried under a massive boulder, larger even than him, and only his head and shoulders were visible in the unlit cavern. He was struggling against the rock formation, snapping his teeth and thrashing beneath its crushing weight, though his movements were sluggish and a cloud of dark crimson floated all around him. Definitely blood, and lots of it.

Zilla bellowed at him, his call muffled by water but audible nonetheless, as he approached and Godzilla's head snapped up to look at him. A look of bewilderment and complete shock crossed over the lizard's features as he took in the sight of someone coming to his rescue so unexpectedly. He growled in response, but it was worryingly faint and laced with pain, not at all how Godzilla usually acted.

Deciding he would worry about Godzilla's well-being later and focus on freeing him first, Zilla swam a little up to get a better look at the situation. The boulder was lodged firmly between the cave's two walls at an angle that would make trying to leverage it out impossible. Burrowing through it to weaken its structure could work but with the island steadily sinking to the bottom, he couldn't be sure if he would make it in time before they were both crushed beneath untold amounts of ground. If he dug under Godzilla, the boulder would just fall into the newly created depression and pin him down further. Blasting it with his green fire would be pointless, it didn't work well with water and he couldn't risk having Godzilla be caught in the blast.

He dived back down to where Godzilla was with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Godzilla was wheezing, sending out entire fountains of bubbles from his nostrils and open mouth. Upon closer inspection, Zilla spotted multiple burns over the parts of Godzilla's body he could see like the one he himself had suffered from the odd geyser erupting near him before. Something told him more burns similar to these covered the majority of Godzilla's body, currently crushed beneath the rock. The fact was odd; Zilla had seen Godzilla recover from, often, mortal wounds in battle in minutes due to his fabled regeneration abilities and yet these weren't closing and healing. As indestructible and virtually immortal as Godzilla was, he was very evidently in copious amounts of pain now and without Zilla's help he'd sink to the bottom and remain there for who knew how long. 

And Zilla would definitely not allow that to happen.

He planted his feet firmly against the cave's floor, claws digging into the rock, and hooked his deft fingers under the boulder right above Godzilla's back. With a wheeze of exertion and an explosion of bubbles that swirled around his snout, he began to pull. The rock groaned and stirred, as Zilla's arms burned and quivered unaccustomed to such Herculean feats of strength, and Godzilla clawed at the ground, trying to drag himself out from under the boulder but to little success. 

This wouldn't work. Zilla simply wasn't strong enough to lift the boulder high enough for Godzilla to crawl out whose strength, on top of everything else, was visibly fading at an alarming rate. Or was he...

With a grunt, his grip slipped and the boulder fell on top of Godzilla, who let out a high-pitched roar as he got pinned down once more. He shot Zilla a withering glare that went unnoticed as Zilla spun in place and changed his position, now bracing his hands against the ground and wedging his feet between the boulder's edge and Godzilla's dorsal fins, some of which had been visibly crushed and snapped in half. 

The anger in Godzilla's glare turned to shock, as he watched in befuddlement the iguana's proceedings. Zilla just glanced at him briefly, breathing heavily and grunted at him, a wordless prompt to get ready. And then he pushed, with all his might.

Godzilla's watched in silent surprise as the coiled muscles of Zilla's powerful legs bulged beneath his black, leathery skin, quivering faintly and felt the crushing weight being shoved off him. He sucked in a breath, filling out his oxygen-starved lungs to the brim for the first in what felt like forever, and, ignoring the stinging pain of broken ribs, threw himself forward in one last desperate attempt to escape.

He did it.

As soon as the tip of Godzilla's tail slid out from under the boulder Zilla let go and scrambled forward, allowing it to sink to floor with a muffled thud. But there was no time for celebration.

With Godzilla's body now fully visible, Zilla had the chance to take in the extent of the damage the lizard had suffered. And what a staggering extent it was. Burns covered the majority of Godzilla's body, ranging from aggressively red streaks to entire patches of burnt flesh where scales and skin had been burned clean off to reveal the dark red of muscle and, in other places, the pearly white of bone. They stood out against the monotone blackness of his scales like sore thumbs. The majority of his dorsal spikes had been broken off or mangled, likely the product of being stuck under a boulder many times his weight. Some of the broken off pieces were shoved into the flesh on his back, dark blood oozing from the lacerations. 

Zilla bit back a whine at the sight; Godzilla would certainly not appreciate such an overt display of pity, and instead floated over to gently nudge the side of his head with his own snout, taking great care not to accidentally brush against one of the burn spots. Godzilla, who was laying on his chest with his eyes closed, heaved one eyelid open with great effort to look at his savior; his eyes were glazed over and his breaths turned shallow once more. Blood flowed from between his parted jaws, forming a black cloud around his muzzle. 

He was hurt, badly, and very clearly. And he was doing a rather poor job at masking it, which somehow worried Zilla even more. In all their meetings during joined fights, Godzilla had never really appeared to be in pain. Even when struck, scratched, blasted or bitten he roared out, masking the possible pain with fury and pushed on through any and all injuries. But seeing him like this, silent and spent and too hurt to roar out his defiance, chilled the iguana to the very bone. 

But when Zilla tried to reach for his arms to help him up, he growled in protest. Confused, Zilla cocked his head at the lizard and narrowed his eyes. This really wasn't a good time to worry over maintaining dignity or other such nonsense, but it was clearly what the King was doing. Another attempt at grasping Godzilla's arm was met with a clumsy swipe of the said appendage in his general direction, which was easily avoided, and another angry growl. The pain and weariness were ill-concealed, however, and Zilla simply stared down at Godzilla with his eye ridges narrowed in disapproval, steadily meeting the other's furious stare.

"I'm getting you out of here, whether you like it or not," Zilla spoke in a firm tone, his voice muffled and distorted by water, but still very much audible to Godzilla. 

The only response he got was Godzilla planting his burned and mauled arms against the ground and trying with all his might to haul himself up. Blood gushed from his wounds like from broken faucets, threatening to turn all the water in the cave black in the process. Zilla let out a startled screech of surprise and quickly shot towards the, apparently, suicidal lizard. 

Godzilla's arms shook and gave out almost immediately, and the weakened King sank back to the bottom. Though the impact was significantly less painful than it would have been on land, it still jarred Godzilla's body and made him bite back another pained growl to the point of drawing blood when his razor sharp teeth pierced the skin of his bottom lip. 

Zilla circled above his fellow kaiju anxiously, racking his brains for a way to get him out of here before he could hurt himself even worse than he already had. They wouldn't fit through the tunnel he had created side by side and he didn't quite believe Godzilla would manage to drag himself all the way across it in his current state. A quick swim around the cave confirmed that there were no other exits, at least not ones they could squeeze through. He suspected that a path may have laid behind the boulder but he couldn't lift it up and crawl under it at the same time, and Godzilla didn't look capable of holding it aloft for him. 

Panic began to push its way from the back of his mind to its forefront, as he progressively eliminated possible solution after solution, but he forced it right back down before it completely clouded his brain. This wasn't a time for panic but for a cool head and a sound plan. His eyes travelled back to the hole he had made upon entry, quite literally, their last ray of hope; it had been the way in and now it was the only way out. A plan began to form in his head, even as the entire cave shook and rumbled; they were running out of time. 

The iguana paddled forth and stopped in front of Godzilla, who was back to laying on the cave floor with eyes half closed and mouth hanging open; Zilla could've sworn the flow of blood was getting faster with each second they spent here, something must've been blocking Godzilla's natural regeneration and rendering closing the wounds impossible. All the more reason to get the hell out.

He turned his back on the King and stuck his tail right under Godzilla's nose, staring over his shoulder to make sure he didn't slap the lizard in the face with its tip. Godzilla stirred at the sudden movement, once again opening his eyes with difficulty and staring quizzically at the presented appendage. Zilla wagged it a little, twirling it in a small circle and making overly dramatic grabbing motions with his forepaws. Godzilla stared at it for a moment and then lunged for it half-heartedly, trying to clasp his jaws around the bobbing tail tip. It was pulled out of his reach in time and Zilla sighed in exasperation.

Damn prideful kings of monsters and their irresistible urge to do everything by themselves and refuse all help given to them out of some asinine principle. 

Zilla had every reason to just leave Godzilla here and save himself, he would have plenty of time to swim out of the collapsing cave and leave the sinking island's vicinity before it crashed down to the seafloor. He had already tried to help multiple times and had had his efforts dashed by the very monster he had been trying to save. It was hard to imagine anyone blaming him if he just gave up trying and left Godzilla to his own devices.  
But he couldn't do that, and he wouldn't do that. 

When the tail was once again placed in Godzilla's reach, he tried to biting down on it again with a, somewhat, ferocious snarl of pure defiance and anger at this iguana's audacity. The game of cat and mouse went on for a rather short time, as Godzilla had quickly managed to wear himself down. Over half the water in the sunken cave was now black with blood that had been steadily fleeing from Godzilla's body. Some of it had even gotten into Zilla's nose, upsetting the already scalded sinuses and making him grimace and snort at the stinging sensation.

He was about to pull his tail away again and try to instead widen the tunnel so Godzilla could fit in with him by his side, when he felt two hands grabbing the very tip of his tail and curling around it. He looked over his shoulder, just a little surprised, but couldn't meet Godzilla's eyes as his head was turned down and to the side, as if avoiding eye contact out of some ill-conceived sense of shame from finally caving in and accepting the offered aid. It wasn't a good look for him at all.

Not wasting any time lest Godzilla change his mind, Zilla pushed himself off the bedrock with a mighty thrust of his powerful legs to get himself afloat once more... and realized immediately that dragging a barely conscious Godzilla around with him hanging off his tail would not be easy. The weight threatened to drag him back down but he fought it as hard as he could, beating the water with all four of his limbs in measured strokes and gritting his teeth in exertion; it was no secret that Godzilla was taller and considerably heavier than him. But then again, Zilla was much stronger than many, upon seeing him, would've given him credit for. His sleek, lean body was very clearly built for speed and agility, not power lifting, an honest mistake to make upon first glance; however, his true strength lay hidden in the coils of powerful muscles, usually dormant beneath the ridged scaly skin of his thighs and shins, products of entire years of swimming and sprinting. With his tail occupied with a rather significant weight, he had to rely on the muscles of his arms and legs alone to direct himself and his cargo in the water.

After a moment of intense struggling, Godzilla's body at last began to lift from the bedrock and when his feet had left the cave floor, Zilla angled them towards the opening of the tunnel. He just had to guide Godzilla through the narrow corridor and then it would be smooth sailings from there, or at least he hoped it would be. 

To his credit, Godzilla was still doing whatever he could to help out a little. When Zilla glanced over his shoulder to check how he was doing, he could see the King's charred tail swaying from side to side to help propel their combined weight forwards. Even his legs, though they had almost certainly been broken, were paddling in the water. His eyes were closed, though, and his body shuddered with each labored breath that filled up his shattered chest; Zilla could feel it travel up his spine from the palms of Godzilla's hands wrapped around his tail. Lesser kaiju would've long succumbed to such grievous injuries and accepted their demise with a resigned whine, but not Godzilla. 

Spurred on by the sight, Zilla fought against the water even harder and soon made it to the opening of the tunnel. He grabbed onto the ledge with his foreclaws and vaulted over it, dragging his entire body inside with one hard push, managing to make even that look graceful, keeping his tail ramrod stiff and straight (not without difficulty) so Godzilla would slide inside as painlessly as possible. Having solid stone under his hands and feet made moving forward a little easier but not really any faster, as Zilla tried to do his best to avoid having Godzilla's burnt and bleeding body brush against the jagged rocks haphazardly sticking out of the tunnel's walls. The tunnel had been made with a smaller kaiju in mind, and while Godzilla's bulk had fit inside without much trouble, it wasn't a very comfortable fit. Occasionally, his side or torso would brush against the outcropping rocks, digging painfully into exposed flesh and muscle and making Godzilla bite back whines of pain. 

His resolve had faded eventually, though, and, when they were about halfway through the tunnel, Zilla started to hear each whimper Godzilla made when his body dragged across the sharp, uneven surfaces. He could only muffle them with gritted teeth and clenched jaws for so long. Each pained noise broke Zilla's heart a little, but there was nothing he could do to help except get Godzilla out of this hole as soon as possible. The iguana wanted nothing more than to comfort his fellow kaiju but he had to focus on keeping his breathing steady, to minimize the energy he was spending, and couldn't really say anything. Instead, he picked up speed even more, feeling Godzilla growing steadily more limp behind him and fearing his grip would soon slip.

'Oh no, come on stay with me,' Zilla growled in his mind, clawing at the rocky surface of the tunnel's floor to drag them further forward, fighting with Godzilla's weight slowing him down and the tight space that didn't allow for wider swings of his arms. His muscles burned and throbbed painfully, and his tail felt like it could fall of at any second. Small fragments of rock had lodged themselves painfully between his claws and the skin covering them, and some, kicked up by his rabid clawing, got sucked into his nose, further damaging his stinging sinuses and making him snort and sneeze.

His heart nearly stopped beating when Godzilla stopped making noises, the uneven wheezes and labored breaths that had accompanied him all throughout their hellish journey now replaced with Zilla's frantic breaths and the sound of claw scraping against rock. 

'No! You can't... you can't die!' he shouted mentally while letting out a strangled screech and shoving himself forward as hard as he could, an ice cold ball of dread growing in the pit of his stomach as he felt Godzilla's grip on his tail weakening. 'I won't let you!'

A small ray of light glimmered in front of him, lighting up the murky waters, faint but visible: the tunnel's exit. They were almost there, they could make it. They would make it. Zilla was heaving painfully, while he may have been the most durable swimmer among the kaiju even he had his limits, he had never been forced to drag someone this size and weight, not to mention completely limp, around with him with nothing but his tail. Moving forward had turned much harder when Godzilla stopped helping with his tail and legs, leaving all the heavy lifting to Zilla who, honestly, wasn't all that well equipped for such a task, however surprisingly strong he may have been. 

'Only a little more, you can do it...' he tried convince himself of that in his head to little success. 'Just one more push, one more shove, why must Godzilla be so heavy...'

The light was so faint, and steadily disappearing as more rocks and stones fell and obscured it, but it still filled Zilla's heart with hope. He was almost there, he wouldn't fail, not again. His arms were shaking, unable to support his and Godzilla's combined weight anymore, but he ignored it. He felt the familiar sickening, metallic and coppery taste in the back of his throat; bile mixed with blood, but he ignored it. He felt his spine being pulled apart by his efforts to go forth and the heavy stone Godzilla's body had turned into dragging him back, but he ignored it. He felt his lungs fill up with blood, clogging up his airways and making breathing nigh impossible, but he ignored it.

And then the tunnel disappeared from around him and he was back in, arguably, open waters again, fighting the currents and narrowly dodging slowly plummeting rocks from above. Godzilla's hands finally slipped and the King of the Monsters began to sink, his head lolled lifelessly onto his bleeding and mauled chest, his chin bouncing off his exposed breastbone. Bits and pieces of rock were stuck in his wounds from his tunnel trip and a cloud of black-red blood surrounded him from all sides. 

Zilla dived right after him, finally free to maneuver in a not confined space again, and grabbed under Godzilla's arms, kicking his legs to halt their descent and started dragging him away from the island. It was anything but nice and easy, but it definitely beat having him hang off his tail, at least now he could grab him properly with his hands. The fact that he had already been worn down didn't help matters either. 

'Land, land, got to find land,' Zilla's thoughts bounced around his skull in a frenzy, as he looked around, trying to decide which was the best way to go.

He remembered there was a small archipelago of uninhabited islands northwest of Monster Island, but he couldn't be sure whether they had also sunk or not. 

'Only one way to find out,' he figured and started swimming towards, what he hoped, would be their salvation. 

While it still felt like he was trying to carry a mountain, the ability to use his arms instead of his tail and being out of that cramped tunnel made dragging Godzilla along a little easier. If only he weren't so exhausted, his arms wouldn't feel like the muscles were literally peeling off the bones, and he weren't hacking up thick globs of blood every couple seconds. Turns out a mix of third degree burns on the inner sides of your lungs, gravel, snorting in another being's blood and wheezing like an asthmatic wasn't very good for you. Zilla felt like he had been breathing white-hot glass for the better part of the last few hours, and heaved a blissful sigh of relief, even going as far as to close his eyes for a moment, when they finally swam out from the heat radius of what had once been Monster Island and the cool water of the Pacific Ocean washed over him in a soothing wave. He could've cried right there and then.

Despite all of the horrendous things happening to his body, Zilla was only half paying attention to it, his attention turned entirely towards his unusual cargo. He kept glancing down every couple seconds and letting out quiet, distressed warbles seeing how Godzilla had still not moved at all. Being out of the stifling caves and the tunnel and without the pressing need to get out replacing all other thoughts, Zilla's mind was now free to wander. And, unsurprisingly, it wondered straight to Godzilla and how his ongoing stillness was rather worrying. 

Shouldn't he have started regenerating by now? They were out of, what Zilla had assumed at least, was the "no regen zone" with the steam and whatnot. Perhaps it, whatever "it" actually was, had some lingering effects preventing Godzilla's regeneration to kick in. Maybe the entire ocean had been poisoned during Monster Island's sinking; all the more reason to get Godzilla out of the water and onto some dry land. If he was still even alive...

'No,' Zilla shook his head vigorously. 'He IS alive, shut up, brain.'

Of course he was alive, he was Godzilla, and Godzilla didn't just... die. Though the lack of a perceptible heartbeat or any sign of breathing uprooted that firm claim and plunged Zilla into further doubts. Trying to chase the unwelcome thoughts away, he began paddling harder with his legs, though still careful not to accidentally kick Godzilla's side. He was running on pure adrenaline and determination now, for how long, he couldn't tell and didn't even consider. 

Luck seemed to be on his side, however, as a notably not sinking wall rose up from the darkness of the ocean depths in the distance; an island. Zilla's heart skipped a beat at the sight as he angled them towards it; he had never been this happy to see dry land before. After what had felt like hours, the seafloor rose up suddenly from below to meet them, forcing Zilla to ascend a little to avoid having Godzilla immediately faceplant in the muddy sand of the coastal waters. The iguana's dorsal spikes breached the water's surface with a splash, glistening wetly in the noon Sun, as his soles struck the soggy seabed and he began to drag Godzilla's body up from the depths onto the pleasantly sunny and warm beach. He grimaced a little, both from exertion and the thought of how completely full of sand Godzilla's wounds would be after this brief trip. Dragging him like this definitely wasn't sanitary but it was the fastest way to get him onto land.

Zilla stomped his feet, splashing salty water everywhere as he dragged Godzilla precariously between his legs, keeping a firm hold on the lizard's shoulders. Another shove, another pull, another push and at last Godzilla was entirely out of the water and sprawled out on the deserted beach on his front, as eerily unmoving as he had been during the whole swim. 

Carefully, Zilla stepped over him and went to circle to his side when the world spun around right before his eyes. He stumbled and fell forward, all strength sapping out of him in one instant, barely managing to brace himself against the sand on his stinging and agonizingly sore forearms and landing on all fours on the ground. His stomach lurched painfully and he barely managed to turn his head away from where Godzilla was lying before its contents rose to the back of his throat and he spewed them all over the trees and rocks at the beach's edge. He heaved and gagged at the smell, bile and acrid stomach acid mixed with blood, and nearly vomited again from it.

Everything was still spinning, sliding in and out of focus, darkening and brightening up again and his limbs shuddered, suddenly unable to uphold his weight anymore. It seemed his exhaustion had finally caught up to him when the adrenaline had faded, leaving Zilla to take the full brunt of the consequences of what he had done head on. He wanted nothing more but to curl up on the beach and sleep for a week; every fiber of his being seemed to be screaming that plea at him all at once. It took every single ounce of willpower he could summon up in his groggy, hazy mind to ignore that oh so tempting idea and instead force himself back to his feet. 

For a moment, he swayed in place unsteadily, forced to take a couple steps forward and backwards and to the sides to find his balance once again. His legs felt like they were made out of lead, moving them was a nearly impossible task, but so was carrying an unconscious Godzilla out of a sunken cave and he had managed to do that anyway. With a firm shake of his head, he chased off the remnants of his momentary dizziness and looked around with his vision now clear once more. There was no time to rest or show weakness, he was still needed.

A cool, refreshing breeze washed over his frame, feeling delightfully cold against his water-coated hide that still felt a little too warm for comfort. With a small, pleased groan he turned his head in the direction from which it was coming from and allowed his eyes to close for a brief moment. While he may have preferred the ocean depths and the coolness of water folding around him like a blanket, he had to admit that wind was quite the pleasant thing. Even if it carried with it some of the smoke from over Monster Island's final resting place, the massive pillar of blackness still visible on the horizon. 

Feeling reenergized and with confidence slowly returning to his gait with each step taken, he approached Godzilla. The sand Godzilla was lying on had already turned crimson, completely soaked with fresh blood. Zilla's nostrils crinkled in disgust and his stomach churned at the stench that grew stronger the closer he got; without any water to mask it, Godzilla's wounds stunk worse than decaying fish. 

Zilla bowed his head by Godzilla's own and nudged it carefully with the tip of his snout. Nothing. He rumbled in worry, eyes sweeping across the lizard's, frankly, mutilated frame. Perhaps the sand and gravel stuck in his wounds prevented him from regenerating. Zilla was no doctor and had little to no experience in treating wounds that weren't his own, but that sounded at least plausible to him. He dug his feet into the sand and braced the wide, fairly flat top of his head against Godzilla's side, between two furiously red splotches, and pushed. 

It took much grunting and neck straining, but he managed to roll Godzilla over onto his least hurt side after a few attempts. The smell his ribcage, now exposed to the air, gave off nearly made Zilla black out; he leapt back with a strangled screech and dry-heaved, the walls of his empty stomach clenching painfully in a failed attempt at regurgitating something that simply wasn't there. It was hard to say what was more nauseating: the pungent stench of bleeding, seared and exposed meat, flesh and organs, or the sight of them through the bones of Godzilla's ribcage, charred, blackened, cracked and broken in places. Zilla could have gone through his life quite happily without seeing a heart struggling to beat among the desolate landscape of the chest it resided in. 

'Oh, it's beating!' the realization hit him like one of those torpedoes humans loved to shoot him with, and his eyes widened. He could've sworn he hadn't heard it pumping when he had been rolling him over. Was it possible that Godzilla's famed ability to regenerate had finally kicked in? Zilla was almost afraid to hope at this point.

He then remembered what he had rolled him over for in the first place, and took a tentative step forward, trying very hard not to breathe through his nose. Godzilla was still out of it and didn't even grimace when Zilla crouched carefully by his side and eyed the scorch and burn marks covering the majority of the great lizard's hide. Their garishly reddish tint was somewhat dimmed by the thick crust made out of tiny pieces of rock and sand, which somehow made it look even worse, not to mention terribly uncomfortable. 

Moving as slowly and carefully as he possibly could, Zilla lowered his head down, parted his jaws and stuck the very tip of his tongue out. As soon as his tongue made contact with the closest and largest burn, he tasted charcoal-like bitterness of burnt scales, a metallic and coppery not-at-all-subtle hint of blood and the stale, dirt-laced and throat-scratching aftertaste of gravel that made him want to puke all over again. 

"Ew," he rumbled out around his stuck out tongue in a small, dissatisfied whine; this tasted absolutely horrible.

Despite his stomach clenching and churning in protest, he kept licking until that entire burn had been cleaned out to the best of his ability and clear of any intruding material. He turned around towards the waves lazily lapping at the sandy shores, gagging and fighting back the urge to dry-heave some more, and rinsed his mouth out very thoroughly with the salty water that did wonders in burning away the fetid taste from his taste buds. It was all useless, though, as he'd have to repeat this process who knew how many times and fill his mouth up with more grainy sand and blood and other atrocities each time; he suppressed a disgusted shudder at the thought and faced Godzilla again with a determined expression, ready to continue the careful ministrations.

What he saw made him pause and gape in shock. The burn he had been cleaning not a minute ago was healing right before his eyes. Dark grey skin coated the bright red surface of the burn at a staggering rate and soon after scales, rounded at the top and pointy at the bottom like on the rest of Godzilla's hide, sprouted like leathery flowers and blossomed as fast as Zilla blinked over the freshly covered area. And just like that, in virtually no time at all, the affected area went from a fourth degree burn to looking like it had never happened in the first place.

Zilla stood still for a moment, staring at the spot that had healed so very quickly and then a wide grin began to curl the corners of his maw upwards, the tip of his tail twirling excited circles behind him. Realistically, he shouldn't be shocked, he had seen Godzilla regenerate far worse wounds than this a time or two in the past, but it had never taken this long for it to start working. A quick glance over the rest of Godzilla's body confirmed that none of the other plethora of injuries were healing; he had at first figured that maybe the King's system had finally begun to combat the wounds plaguing it, like white cells beating back an infection, stirred awake by his heart beginning to beat once more. But now that explanation was becoming less likely. 

He considered the issue for a moment, as he approached his previous spot and squatted to bring his head closer to another one of those nasty burns, and came to a quick realization that maybe his saliva had been the catalyst that kick started the process. It wasn't that farfetched of an idea; he was a descendent of an iguana that had been mutated by radiation and radioactive fallout after all. Surely his spit was at least somewhat irradiated. And didn't Godzilla feed on radiation? 

It made sense in Zilla's mind and, instead of further pondering what effects his radiation had on other radioactive lizards, he went back to working tirelessly on cleaning out those burns. The more he lapped and licked, the more sound his thinking proved to be; burns and lacerations were closing fast, scales grew back and skin covered previously exposed tendons and muscles. He could've sworn he heard Godzilla's heartbeat grow stronger with each wound closed but couldn't say if it wasn't his hopeful brain playing tricks on him. 

Tending to the visible wounds was easy, trying to fix internal damage Godzilla had suffered was pretty much impossible. Zilla couldn't lick at the broken bones of his thighs or spine without cutting his skin open to reach them, and somehow he doubted Godzilla would be terribly happy if he were to do that. So he just focused on whatever he could reach. 

First, he cleaned out Godzilla's entire side, then moved higher up to his neck. A small part of him was rather happy that no one was watching him give Godzilla a tongue bath and that Godzilla himself was still unconscious; he could only imagine how growly and hissy the King would get over someone licking him in this rather intimate manner. But the larger part told the smaller one not to be ridiculous and focus on the job first and worry over possible ramifications of his act later. Except that someone was, indeed, watching them ever since they had made landfall; a small human contraption called a helicopter circled around the island at an altitude high enough for Zilla to completely miss, too focused on other, much more important matters. 

A small, chuffing exhale made him pause and stare intently at Godzilla's face, contorted slightly into a pained grimace, but his eyes didn't open. Unable to help himself, Zilla leaned forward and nuzzled the tip of his snout under Godzilla's jaw line and against his throat in the most tender of ways and rumbled in reassurance. 

"You'll pull through," he mumbled softly against the black scales, sagging a little in relief at the sound of air once again travelling through the length of Godzilla's throat. "You'll be fine."

He wasn't entirely sure if what he was saying was meant to reassure Godzilla or himself. The important part was that Godzilla was recovering and not just lying dead-like in the sand anymore. It seemed like the worst of it was now over. Spurred on by his success, he pulled away and ducked his head a tad lower to focus on the gaping hole Godzilla's chest had turned into next, when from behind him came a loud splash followed by a high-pitched and insect-like battle cry.

Before his mind could fully process what had just happened, his instincts kicked in and sent his body into motion. He jumped to his feet in a flash, like a snake unfolding itself to strike, and leapt in the direction of the incoming threat, assuming a defensive stance between Godzilla's body and whatever was approaching. Bracing his feet against the sand and straightening out to his full height, with his tail dragging across the ground to balance him, he made himself appear as large and threatening as he possibly could; a common tactic among animals to avoid confrontation. But something told him this particular confrontation was unavoidable. 

'So much for the worst of it being over,' Zilla thought bitterly, responding to the challenge with a loud roar of his own, aiming to not only silence his soon-to-be opponent but his own swarming doubts. He had just swam miles upon miles carrying a weight almost twice his own and despite his momentary, determination-driven surge of strength directed at helping Godzilla, he really wasn't in the best condition to fight. The logical part of his brain told him to flee and not fight in a situation where he was at a clear disadvantage from the very start. Unfortunately, he wasn't in a mood to listen to logic. It wasn't even really a choice, his mind had been set so firmly. He was staying to protect Godzilla. 

From beneath the waves, a figure rose. Its smooth, brown hide glistened ostentatiously in the sunlight. It looked like some sort of insect abomination, somewhat resembling a beetle standing on two, thick legs with a large horn jutting out of its forehead, pair of wings folded neatly on its back looking like some sort of protective carapace and metallic drills in the place of its hands. It waved them threateningly in Zilla's direction, letting out another furious, high-pitched, roar-like sound. Large, yellow bug eyes stared intently into the iguana's own, somehow managing to look angry despite lacking the actual ability to emote, in an attempt to intimidate Zilla. 

Megalon, the bug kaiju. The reason for his unexpected arrival was rather simple. While he may have mostly been glaring at Zilla, he had cast a few surreptitious glances at Godzilla between the iguana's outspread legs. It only made sense someone would show up to put the King down while he was heavily wounded, probably the best chance the invaders had had so far to eliminate Earth's greatest guardian. Zilla had a sneaking suspicion that someone had orchestrated Monster Island's sinking, likely Megalon's current masters; islands didn't just decide to take a dive in the ocean out of the blue. 

Zilla glared right back, snorting some of the residual salt still clinging to the inner walls of his nostrils to show Megalon just how unimpressed he was with his intimidation tactics. They had met a few times in the past and fought each of said times, though every scuffle had taken place underwater where Zilla was the master of combat. If anything, Megalon had a surprisingly short temper and angering him before a fight via taunts usually led to him committing comical blunders and misses, a tactic Zilla had adapted early on into their acquaintanceship. 

And it seemed to work this time as well, as the oversized beetle let out another battle cry and moved towards Zilla, bringing his drill appendages up with very clearly harmful intent. Being the fastest and leanest kaiju around had many perks, one of which was the surprisingly high amount of times where his opponents had underestimated him and what he was capable of. Zilla didn't mind, any advantage given to him, he would gladly accept. 

As soon as Megalon moved, so did Zilla, charging at the abomination and nailing him in the chest area with the top of his head before the bug could reposition himself for an interception. The force of the hit sent Megalon skidding back a couple dozen meters, sending gallons of water and wet sand splashing everywhere. For a moment, he struggled to regain his balance and Zilla used it to duck in for a quick slash across his side carapace. It left a few long slashes on it, but no blood was drawn.

Exhaustion was finally catching up to Zilla, however, and slowing his movements down in the most inconvenient of moments, as before he could jump back to a safe distance a massive drill rammed into the side of his head. He let out a high-pitched roar of pain, stumbling sideways through the shallow water and shaking his head to clear it of the annoying dark spots that danced across his vision. Something crackled behind him and the air smelled briefly of ozone, before a ray of yellow, crackling energy slammed into his side. Zilla screeched in pain as the searing tendrils of light singed and lapped hungrily at his scales, the force of the hit sending him flying back and landing in some trees, that cracked and broke under his weight, by the beach's shore, a couple hundred feet away from where Godzilla was still lying. 

Grayish smoke swirled around his frame as he scrambled back to standing, helping himself up with his dexterous forearms and glancing around. His entire side stung and smelled less than pleasant but he could bite through the pain of that for now. Further down the beach from him was Megalon, who had seemingly lost interest in frying Zilla further, now approaching the still prone, still unmoving Godzilla. The sight made his blood boil and caused a vicious snarl to ripple across his muzzle as he launched into a full on sprint, leaving behind him a trail of uprooted trees and dirt carved by massive claws, and called out to his foe in an attempt to distract him from his prey. It worked and Megalon turned to face the speeding iguana with an annoyed chirp, his horn once more lighting up to fire that beam-like attack towards the oncoming threat. 

Thinking himself to be clever, Megalon had aimed at a spot where Zilla would be and not where he was, likely hoping to surprise the iguana in such an unexpected manner. Unfortunately for him, a brain dead moron Zilla was not and he knew all about the intricacies of hitting mobile targets. Just as Megalon's horn released its destructive charge, Zilla lowered his body mid-run, tensing the muscles of his powerful thighs, and launched himself forward in a giant leap over the ray that struck the ground instead. He allowed the momentum of his mad dash to carry him all the way over to the other kaiju, clearing the distance between them in an improbably short time, and slammed bodily into the shocked Megalon feet-first.

The speed at which Zilla was going and the force of the impact were enough to topple Megalon and send him sprawling in the shallows with the iguana crashing down roughly atop his chest. Carapace and what might've been bone cracked under his feet, the sound and Megalon's pained chitters filling Zilla's heart with a primal sort of glee, as he ducked his head low to bite down on his opponent's jugular, shoving the mutant down by the shoulders and keeping him pinned. In his rush to taste Megalon's blood, however, he left himself open for a counter attack and paid for it when one of the bug's drills stabbed into his stomach. Pain exploded in his underbelly as its sharp tip pierced scale and muscle alike, a jet of blood shooting out from the wound immediately and darkening the water around them. 

A moment of lightheadedness caused by the pain halted Zilla's advance before he could reach his target and allowed Megalon to buck the iguana off with a hard kick to his gut. Zilla was sent flying, landing roughly on his back on the beach itself, his back spikes digging deep into the soft sand. He wheezed, feeling the warmth of his own blood spreading over his stomach and flowing down his sides, instinctually reaching for the deep cut with one forepaw as if to try and stop the outpour. In the shallow waters, Megalon got to his feet and hummed in approval; dark blood dripped from his right drill-limb as he approached, lumbering over Zilla who was struggling to free himself from the beach's stifling grasp.

Megalon, likely thinking his prey to be down for the count already and wanting to rid himself of this nuisance before moving on to his true target, leaned over Zilla and brought his drills down to slam them into the iguana's chest. His arrogance backfired as powerful legs pulled back and then bucked out beneath him, at a speed that should be unattainable for creatures of this size, and Zilla's feet rammed into his exposed chest, sending the bug kaiju flying back with a loud crunch of a broken ribcage and a cry of pain. Zilla rolled over in a cloud of kicked up sand, managing to finally wriggle free, and turned to face Megalon once more, baring his teeth in a furious snarl. 

This time, the bug was having greater trouble with standing up, his chest baring two matching indents from where Zilla's feet had struck. Exhaustion paired with blood loss; Megalon must've nicked an artery with his drill, forced Zilla to hung back and approach more carefully as breaking into another sprint could have him spending the reminder of his severely depleted energy. He would need to resort to fighting in an unfamiliar, close combat style that was very out of his element, but it was all he could do at the moment. So, instead, he stalked over to Megalon, keeping light on his feet and low to the ground to keep his underbelly protected. 

They engaged in mid-shin deep water in a grappling contest, with Zilla trying to bite at Megalon's face while simultaneously forcing his drill-hands down to prevent him from stabbing him some more, and the bug trying to do exactly that. Megalon's horn crackled with energy once more, preparing to fire once again, but the bright lightning quickly dispersed when Zilla's jaws finally reached their mark and clamped around the insect kaiju's soft, fleshy and stubby neck with a sickening crunch. Gallons of green-tinted, foreign liquid that must've served as Megalon's life juice flowed down Zilla's throat and, while tasting absolutely disgusting, it was still a delicious taste of victory. 

With a pained screech, Megalon struggled in Zilla's grasp and tore his arms free of the iguana's faltering grip, flailing them wildly. One caught Zilla on the flank, giving him a wide slice all the way from under his left arm to the base of his leg; the other rammed into the side of his head with enough power to nearly dislocate his jaw, forcing him to let go of Megalon's throat and stumble away on unsteady legs with a low groan. Blood from the cut over his right eye ridge flooded his eye instantly, stinging like hell and forcing him to close it with a low hiss; his entire side flared up in pain, pulsating and sending a wave of agony with each beat of his fluttering heart. 

Though gargling and bleeding profusely from his mauled larynx, Megalon looked to press his advantage at the sight of Zilla staggering back in pain. He swung his right arm in a wide arc, a little too wide, to bash the drill at the end of it into Zilla's already injured side but the iguana ducked unexpectedly and jutted his dorsal spikes out to intercept the attack. Warm blood splashed across his back and flowed down the arch of his spine as the wickedly sharp edges sliced right through Megalon's carapace hide and sent the detached limb flying through the air, leaving behind it a trail of dark green ichor suspended in midair momentarily in a mesmerizing arc.

Zilla's body was built for speed, lending itself to a more hit-and-run style of combat, not this brawling, punch-for-punch exchange he had found himself stuck in. But anger and desperation had a habit of tipping the scales in the most unexpected of moments and as exhaustion worked to sap out the reminder of Zilla's strength, all that was left to fuel him were adrenaline, rage and determination, all somehow made stronger by the fact that he wasn't fighting for himself but to protect someone else.

Megalon recoiled in shock, letting out a booming, agonized cry and staring incomprehensibly at the gushing stump that had been his arm not a second ago. Still half crouched, Zilla spun around, slamming the thick portion of his tail into Megalon's ribs as he went, and completed the turn with a downward slash of his sickle-like claws that raked over Megalon's eye, punctuating his elegant twirl with a eardrum-blasting roar of unadulterated rage. The light that shone within it went out as Zilla's shredded its surface in one swift move, forcing another high-pitched warble from the insect. 

Wounded, confused and rapidly losing blood, Megalon tried to charge his horn ray in a last ditch effort to push Zilla back. But he was too late. Zilla's eyes flashed green for a brief second and then he opened his jaws to release a hellish torrent of jade-colored fire right into Megalon's face. The scent of burning flesh and boiling blood assaulted his nostrils, but he didn't stop, not until the panicked shrieks and wails of agony gave way to silence, broken only by the roar and crackling of the flames. 

With a snap of his jaws the flames stopped and he watched, breathing heavily and glaring with his one open eye, at what remained of Megalon. Nearly the entirety of his upper body had been turned to a black, charred, unrecognizable mass. In some places the flesh had been burned away to reveal the alien-like bone structure beneath. He remained standing for a moment, not making a single sound, and then began to tip backwards, falling like a tree whose base had been cut into the shallow waters of the cove. 

Zilla stepped over to his fallen foe, giving his brutalized body a solid kick to make sure he truly was dead. The body didn't budge. And with a relieved sigh Zilla nearly collapsed right there and then, as if the strings that had held him up all throughout the fight had been severed by some invisible hand. Slowly turned around and shuffled back towards land, his tail and arms sagging, each step weak and uncertain. He didn't even make it to the beach before he fell, splashing blood-tinted water everywhere and crying out in pain he couldn't bother to hide anymore. On all fours, he managed to drag himself towards the beach where Godzilla lay, still and stoic like a statue, where his muscles finally gave out.

His chin struck the soft sand with a thud, his eyelids dropped. He didn't even try to fight against the weariness and pain dragging him down and down into the black of void unconsciousness. He was tired, so tired, and so sore. Everything hurt. Blood still oozed out of the fresh cuts, forming a sizeable puddle underneath his sprawled out body, but it almost seemed like he didn't notice. 

He had done his job, Godzilla was safe and Megalon was dead, surely he could close his for just a minute and rest. Just to reaffirm himself, he glanced over at the King of Monsters and found himself staring right into a yellow-orange orb, clear against the haziness of his darkening vision. And then his eyelid dropped and all he saw was darkness.

 

\---

 

When Zilla finally woke up, the Moon had replaced the Sun in the sky, casting the world in darkness illuminated only by the streaks of silver moonlight; they reflected ever so nicely off the water's surface. With a low groan he heaved himself up to his feet, his body still felt like he'd had an entire island dumped on top of him; which in a way he actually had. His wounds had stopped bleeding during the time he was out and didn't hurt nearly as much as they had before. He wasn't too worried though, he'd recover soon enough, like he always had.

He turned towards where Godzilla had been lying to check up on him next and froze. The space was empty, with only a Godzilla-sized indent in the sand to occupy it. Had someone come and drag him away while he was sleeping? Had he left on his own? Had his wounds healed already?  
Zilla turned around, searching frantically for the lizard and wondering how could one possibly lose an entire Godzilla, and came snout-to-chest with the very person he thought he'd lost. Godzilla, very conscious and very regenerated, was standing right in front of him and looking every bit as imposing and powerful as he usually did. 

Happiness bubbled up in the depths of Zilla's chest at the sight, a bright grin spreading across his snout, and he almost launched himself at Godzilla to hug him, but stopped himself at the last second. Such overtly affectionate displays surely weren't in style for the King. So he just stood in place and smiled, forcing his tail not to wag too much, while Godzilla kept his typical, impassive expression.

The two reptiles stood like this for a while, neither breaking the silence that had settled over them like a blanket. It almost seemed to Zilla like Godzilla was mulling something over, battling with his thoughts as if he were trying to say something but wasn't quite sure what or whether he should say anything at all. Just to be safe, Zilla stayed quiet and took a moment to glance over Godzilla's body; he looked, pretty much, brand new, like nothing had ever happened, with none of the previous life-threatening injuries or scars they'd have left visible on his black, scaly hide. Oh the glorious power of radioactivity.

It really made the iguana realize how much more he preferred to see Godzilla like this. They may have never been closest of friends, or colleagues, or even on actual speaking terms and yet he had risked his life twice over the span of one day to help him out without as much as batting an eye. Why had he done it? Well, Godzilla had been in desperate need of help and Zilla had been known to help out whenever he was needed. Plus Godzilla was his ally, directly or not. Reasons enough... right? And then another thought hit him; he had likely seen Godzilla at the lowest possible point, literally bleeding out right before him. Perhaps he was also the only being, kaiju or other, to survive such a sight. He wasn't sure what to make of that, exactly.

Eventually, Godzilla snorted, bringing Zilla's attention back to his face, and looked down on him, his eyes appearing to glow faintly in the dark.

"Thanks," his voice was rough and gruff, and exactly how Zilla had expected it to be. 

The iguana blinked in stunned silence. 

'Whoa... did he just... speak to me?' his mind couldn't seem to process that fact and short-circuited for a moment. The first time Godzilla had ever spoken to him. He wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to react and the unreadable look in the King's eyes as they drilled straight through his soul didn't help with alleviating the sudden anxiety choking him. After a moment, he found his voice again.

"Um... y-you're welcome," he offered weakly and immediately kicked himself mentally. He sounded so unsure and weak, the last things he'd ever want to show in front of Godzilla. And he even stuttered. This was a complete disaster. 

Godzilla let out a small rumbling sound and Zilla could've sworn he spotted a twinkle of amusement in his eyes but quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. And then Godzilla nodded at him, managing to startle Zilla once more. Now this was certainly the most they had ever interacted; Zilla had always assumed that Godzilla was indifferent at best towards him, so being both thanked and nodded at threw him for a loop. Though, he supposed, he had saved his life.

Zilla dipped his head in return before he could get too lost in his thoughts, and, seemingly satisfied, Godzilla turned around to leave. He lumbered forth like the immovable monolith he was, as water swallowed up more and more of his body. Before he submerged completely, he turned to look at Zilla over his shoulder, one golden orb catching a pair of amber ones. The iguana was just standing there, uncertain on what to do next and simply observing Godzilla's departure. 

"See you around," and with those final parting words he ducked his head and dived into the depths, disappearing out of sight with a flick of his tail and a great splash.


End file.
